


Stay Alive For Me

by BreeTaylor



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff and Angst, GTA!verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeTaylor/pseuds/BreeTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been RyanandRay since Ryan basically forced his way into Ray's life. They were willing to die for each other. Ray just never really thought about what would happen when they were actually faced with that. Prompt: Person A is fully capable of annihilating every enemy surrounding them with ease. However, they relinquish their weapon and surrender for the safety of Person B, much to their horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Alive For Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, GTAverse raywood. How I've missed it. Tried out a different style of breaks, so let me know whatcha think.

Ryan was what psychologists called a cold killer. He had no problems taking out a room full of people, one by one. He felt no remorse for the lives he took. He did what he had to do to survive, and then he left the scene of the crime and continued on with his life. Sociopath, he’d been called. Psychopath, from others. Ryan didn’t really care either way. He made enough money off it to live comfortably, and it wasn’t like anyone in Los Santos was completely sane. Honestly.

It took about a month for people to start giving him names—titles. The Vagabond, the Mad King, the Masked Killer. The last one was not his favorite. But it meant that he was gaining traction. It meant that jobs came in a steady flow, and that he could be a bit pickier. He didn’t have to kill people for petty reasons—like the one time some rich asshole put a hit on a kid barely over 18 for pissing off his dog—now he could wait for the big targets and, as a result, the big pulls.

Six months in he was approached by Geoff. Well, he was approached by Jack on behalf of Geoff. She invited him to their penthouse with the offer of half a million dollars. Ryan had doubted that they actually had the cash, but it peaked his interest to find out why they were so interested in seeing him.

Geoff offered him a position in his crew. Ryan turned it down. Geoff offered him a job. Ryan agreed, albeit hesitantly. He was to take out a new vigilante who was known for two things: his ability to snipe his targets down in one shot without fail, and his choice in weapon color. Namely, pink.

It sounded like an easy enough job. Ryan did his research, found out the guy’s alias (BrownMan, Ryan tried not to question to far into the reasoning behind it), and pulled in a favor to find out a location. A rich friend called in a hit on a target that would never show, but it gave Ryan a location. He scouted out all the places that BrownMan could use, and fifteen minutes before the hit was due to occur he slowly made his way through them. He found his target in the second location, on top of an open parking garage.

It was easy enough to sneak up behind him, to pull the (literally bright pink, Ryan thought that was a myth) sniper rifle from his grasp, and to pin him against a nearby car. The guy—no _kid._ He couldn’t have been older than 20. The _kid’s_ eyes went wide, hands immediately grasping at the hand fisted in his purple hoodie. Yet another anomaly for a sniper.

For the first time, Ryan felt a pang of… something. Guilt? Worry? He tilted his head to the side, knowing full well that the kid could only see his eyes behind the mask. “ _You’re_ BrownMan?” He asked.

“Fuck, man. I don’t know what I did, but please,” He was breathing heavily, “I’m just trying to make a living.”

Ryan’s grip loosened, but he kept his knife on the kid’s neck. “Why would the Fake AH Crew put a hit on you?”

His eyes went wide, “ _Fuck,_ man. _Seriously?_ I don’t fucking know! I thought I was laying low.”

“You have a bright pink gun,” Ryan said blankly, “You’re wearing a bright purple hoodie.”

“Yeah, exactly! Who would suspect the idiot who obviously doesn’t know how to dress the part?” He laughed nervously, “Right?”

Ryan considered it. Kid wasn’t wrong, his attire did lead one to question his ability. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Ray asked, “That’s it? _‘Huh’_?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Maybe why you’re about to kill me?”

Ryan shrugged, “I got hired. I don’t ask why.”

“Fuck, dude. I don’t know what I did. Honestly.”

“Huh.”

“Right,” He took a deep breath. “Well, if you’re going to kill me can you, like… get it over with? The anticipation is killing me. Plus, you’re kind of super intimidating.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Ryan said slowly.

“What?”

“I want to know what you did to piss Geoff off first.”

Ray immediately looked panicked, “Dude, I told you. I don’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it!”

“Well, shall we go ask him, then?”

From the look on his face, that was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. Ryan smiled, and began to drag him to his car.

* * *

“Vagabond,” Geoff said tiredly. “I asked you to kill him. This does not look very dead to me.”

To really hit this point home, Ray waved nervously from his perch in one of Geoff’s very plush chairs. He wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he wasn’t dead. So that was a plus. The Mad King, or Vagabond as Geoff was calling him, still hadn’t taken off his mask. It was only super intimidating. “Why do you want him dead?” He asked.

“I’m not paying you to ask questions.”

“You haven’t technically paid me yet.”

“Since when do the _whys_ matter to you?”

Vagabond shrugged, “Kid’s got skill. I don’t see why you want that dead when you were so eager to try and recruit _me_.”

“I’m not a kid,” Ray muttered under his breath. They both ignored him.

“He’s killed at least three of my sources,” Geoff sighed. “I don’t care how talented he is, I’m losing resources here.”

“All the better reason to hire him.” Ray wasn’t quite sure he _wanted_ to join the Fake AH Crew. He wasn’t even really sure why Vagabond was fighting for him. It was all really, really confusing. Maybe he was dead.

“All the better for you to do as I asked and _kill him_.”

Vagabond shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to do that. But if you ever want me on your crew, you should probably think about hiring him.”

“Why is this so important to you?” Geoff asked, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Ray honestly wanted to know the same thing. He was so fucking confused.

“He’s got skill. And he’s just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Ray repeated, a little louder.

“You look like you’re twelve, kid.” Geoff shot back.

Ray grumbled at the comment. He did _not_. He really, really wanted to go home though. He would never complain about the shittiness of his apartment again if he could just get out of here. He toned out the two men’s arguments, trying to focus on literally anything else. He didn’t want to work for Geoff, so he wasn’t really sure why Vagabond was fighting so hard for it.

“Fine!” Geoff shouted finally, “Fucking fine! The kid can join the goddamn crew if you’ll just shut the fuck up.”

“Good.” Vagabond said at the same time Ray said, “No thanks.”

He and Geoff turned to face him immediately. “ _What?”_

“Yeah, Mr. Big-and-Scary never actually asked, but I don’t _want_ to join your crew.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

Ray shrugged, “I guess.”

And with that, he left the penthouse with far more confidence than he was feeling. As soon as his feet hit the pavement outside, he broke into a sprint. He held the strap of the bag containing his rifle tightly, and prayed to anything that no one tried to follow him.

* * *

Ryan was angry. Which, okay, that wasn’t all that rare. But he was angry specifically at _someone_. Namely an annoying kid in a purple sweater. He’d gone through all that effort just to have him ungratefully decline Geoff’s offer. He declined what was essentially a safety blanket in Los Santos.

So Ryan followed him. He followed him as he zig-zagged through streets and around corners, keeping himself as inconspicuous as possible. Eventually they arrived at what he assumed was the kid’s place of residence. It was possibly one of the worst places to live in Los Santos. Yet another reason the idiot should’ve taken Geoff’s offer.

Ryan waited in the shadows, watching for his opportunity. It came around at 2am. Ray slipped out of the building, looking around nervously, before sneaking off towards the main road. Part of Ryan wanted to know where he was going. But he had a plan, so instead he waited a couple minutes to make sure Ray wasn’t coming back, and then he moved confidently towards the building.

His lock-picking skills weren’t _great_ , but he managed fine. The door opened with only some struggle, and he slipped inside quickly. He locked the door behind himself, and looked around. It was actually decent inside. Ryan couldn’t see much in the dark, but it looked lived in. There were clothes on the floor, guns on the kitchen table, and a video game paused on the TV. He made his way over to the couch and plopped down on it, picking up the controller and resuming BrownMan’s spot in the game while he waited for him to return.

* * *

When Ray returned to his apartment, the absolute last thing he expected to see was the fucking Vagabond. Okay, maybe not the last thing… but he really wasn’t expecting it. He dropped the small bag of groceries on the floor, immediately pulling a gun on the man. He didn’t so much as flinch. “What the _fuck_ are you doing in my apartment?”

“I tried to help you, kid,” the masked man said calmly. “I tried to make living in this city easier for you.”

“Well sorry I don’t take well to random acts of kindness from masked murderers.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“You were _hired_ to kill me!” Ray sputtered. “It’s perfectly reasonable for me to assume you would still be trying to do so.”

“Well, I’m not,” He shifted on the couch, putting the controller down, and Ray instinctively raised his gun a bit higher. But he didn’t pull out a gun. Instead he continued his trend of shocking Ray by pulling the mask off his head.

And, yeah. Okay. Ray wasn’t exactly expecting… that. The mask was very unfairly hiding a fucking attractive face. He had blond-ish hair, and an appealing smattering of stubble along his jaw. His piercing blue eyes were just as breathtaking as always, though the smudged black face paint around them made him look rugged. Somehow he was still terrifying, but in a different way. He stood up and moved over to Ray, removing the gun from his grasp with little difficulty considering his shocked state.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” He repeated. “I honestly wanted to help. Los Santos isn’t exactly the safest city, and if Geoff has a hit on you then I promise more are coming.”

“Why do you care?” Ray asked. “What’s so special about me?”

He shrugged, “I like your style. You’re confident, but not cocky. I think you could do well, but not if you die before you’ve even got the chance.”

Ray still didn’t understand. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the reason that the Vagabond chose to spare _him_ of all people, but he wasn’t going to question it. He seemed genuine, and Ray was tired of fighting it.

“You really think I can make it with Geoff’s crew?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re going to be there, too?”

“Looks like it,” the Vagabond nodded. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” He smiled, slipping his mask back on. “In that case, I’ll see you back at Geoff’s penthouse tomorrow morning, _Ray._ ”

It took a full second for Ray to process the fact that the guy had used his name. Like, his real name. By the time it registered, he was long gone. Ray shut the door firmly behind himself, and fell heavily into bed.

* * *

Geoff put them together for _everything_. Ray and the Vagabond. The sniper and the sociopath. They were basically unstoppable.

It probably helped that Ray was the only one who could tolerate him for long periods of time. Which, when you have to stake out as much as they did, was kind of a requirement.

Ray was still pissed that the asshole knew his name—and told the whole crew, thanks so much for that—but wouldn’t provide the same curtesy. It was a subject Ray brought up frequently, much to Vagabond’s annoyance.

“Seriously, man. You snooped through my _shit_.” He tried. No success. With a heavy sigh, Ray fell back against the seat of the car. He was so done with this shit. “How am I supposed to trust you if you can’t even trust me enough to tell me your goddamn name?”

“No one knows my name.”

“Yeah, well, until you came along no one knew mine.”

“Ray—”

“No. I’m seriously so fucking done with you. You get to have all these goddamn secrets, but none of us can have any? That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Why is it so important to you that you know?”

“Why is it so important to _you_ that I _don’t_?” Ray shouted back.

“Ryan.”

“What.”

“My name is Ryan, are you happy now?”

He was kind of at a loss for words. Ryan. It… fit. He liked it, and he liked that he didn’t have to keep referring to him as “Vagabond”. It got old fast. “It suits you.”

Ryan turned to face him fully, staring deeply into Ray’s eyes. “I need you to understand something, Ray. I trust you more than _anyone_. Don’t you get that? You’re the only person who’s seen my face—with the exception of the deceased, that is. Now you’re the only one who knows my name. I trust you, okay?”

Ray nodded quietly, “Okay.”

From that moment on, everything was different. They were different. Ray and Ryan were never apart. They were RayandRyan. They would die for each other, without a doubt.

Ray just never thought about what he’d do if that situation actually came up.

* * *

He shouldn’t have been so careless. They shouldn’t have been able to get anywhere _near_ Ray, never mind into his _apartment_. Ryan was almost shaking with anger. He could barely focus enough to make the short drive to Geoff’s house. He wanted to skip it, to go directly to the warehouse Ray was being held in. He had to force himself to think rationally, to not go in blind like that.

Geoff was ready with a plan when he arrived, and Ryan made sure to reiterate that he was willing to _anything_ to assure Ray’s safety. He didn’t have to tell Geoff what he meant, the man knew. Gavin mic’d him, assuring that they wouldn’t find the device. Ryan knew that if they did, Ray’s life was in danger. Gavin once again promised that it couldn’t happen.

He made his way to the warehouse quickly. He had a gun with a full clip, and three knives hidden on his person. He could clear the room with ease. He just had to _get there_.

He skidded to a stop in front of the location. He wasn’t being quiet. They were expecting him, and he didn’t have time for stealth. He could take them all out.

He threw open the door of the warehouse, storming a foot into the warehouse completely prepared to murder every living being, but he froze as soon as he did.

Ray was in the middle of the room. Covered in small red dots. He was staring at Ryan with wide, pleading eyes. The Kingpin stood behind him, cackling like the bastard he was. Ryan set his jaw and took another step forward. “Ah, ah, ah. Move anymore and your boyfriend will have so many bullet holes in him he’ll be transparent.”

Ryan froze. “What do you want? Money? Drugs? What?”

“I want you,” He said darkly. “More specifically, you tied to a table and tortured until you _beg_ me to kill you.”

“Let him go,” Ryan said, slowly reaching for the gun in his belt. “He did nothing wrong.”

“I wouldn’t even try to reach for a gun,” the man said. “But you’re right. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but you like him. So I like him.”

“Let him go,” Ryan repeated.

“Oh, I will. But first, you need to turn yourself over to me.”

“Fine.”

“No!” Ray gasped, the Kingpin pushed the knife tip harder against his neck. “Don’t, Vagabond. I’m not worth it.”

“Ah, but you obviously are, my dear,” the man said, watching with Ray as Ryan stripped out of his clothes, pulling knives, and guns, and wires from his body until he stood before them, naked. Guards appeared out of nowhere, grasping his arms tightly and zip-tying his wrists together. Ryan made no attempt to struggle.

“Your boy-toy will be left here, and your crew will be informed of his location,” the Kingpin assured. “Say your goodbyes, kid.”

Ray was released, and he ran to Ryan. The red dots followed him, but he didn’t care. He knew he couldn’t take them all out. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan’s neck and breathed his words into his ear, “Why did you come? Why didn’t you stay away?”

“I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

“But now they’re going to kill you,” Ray sobbed. “You can’t—I can’t—I _need_ you.”

Ryan closed his eyes, fighting the emotions rising in his throat, “And I need you to be okay.”

With that, another group of guards grabbed Ray, and they were dragged off in different directions. The last thing Ryan saw was the Kingpin laughing, and Ray being stabbed. He shouted, and then everything went black.

* * *

Ray woke up in a hospital. Everything was too white and too bright, and his stomach ached like a motherfucker. He couldn’t remember what happened at first, but everything came back so quickly.

He was kidnapped.

Ryan came to save him.

They had Ryan.

They were going to kill Ryan.

Ray struggled to push himself up, out of the bed. His IV stung his hand, so he ripped it out. Machines started beeping, but Ray didn’t care. He looked out the window, second floor. He could make it. So he pushed it wide open, and he jumped.

His feet and ankles screamed at the impact, as did the wound in his lower abdomen. He could feel the rip of stitches, but he didn’t care. He ran through the crowds of people shouting their concerns, and kept running until he stumbled into Geoff’s penthouse.

“Ray?” Michael shouted, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Jesus, he’s bleeding,” Jack said.

“Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

Ray could feel his vision blurring, blackness bleeding in. He gripped Michael’s shirt tightly, and muttered one word. “Vagabond.”

* * *

It took a lot to break Ryan Haywood, Mad King of Los Santos. He had one hell of a pain tolerance, what with his line of work. But stronger than anything was his willpower. If Ryan set his mind to something, _nothing_ would get in his way. So when he saw Ray get stabbed, he vowed to disembowel every member of this goddamn gang.

They tortured him. They cut careful lines into his body, meant to hurt but not kill. They held his head under water until he passed out. They put him in freezers until he was in danger of freezing to death. But Ryan didn’t beg, or cry. He tried not to scream. His torturers hated him, but he didn’t care.

If he could get out of this alive, they would all be dead.

* * *

 

The penthouse was a flurry of activity. Geoff and Jack were looking for the Kingpin. They recognized Ray’s description, apparently, which gave him at least a little hope. Caleb was working on his wound, albeit begrudgingly, because Ray downright refused to go back to the hospital. He had to know Ryan was okay.

It’d been over 24 hours since they got him—he could be dead. Ray didn’t want to think about the possibility, but its alternatives were worse. If he wasn’t dead, they were torturing him. He was in pain, and it was all Ray’s fault. He closed his eyes tightly and hoped that they would fucking get there in time.

* * *

Ryan wondered if they were going to just give up and kill him. They obviously weren’t getting the satisfaction they wanted in this torture. He wasn’t playing along like a good little victim. So why hadn’t they killed him yet? What were they waiting for?

He tried to listen in on the guards’ conversations, but the wounds on his body were taking over. He would only catch a word or two before drifting out of consciousness.

“I heard… coming… the whole lot… the kid, too… just what he wanted.”

Ryan hoped to god they weren’t talking about what he thought they were. _Who_ he thought they were.

* * *

Ray insisted on coming. Everyone argued, everyone threatened, but he insisted. He needed to see Ryan _now_. He needed to know if he was okay…. Or if he wasn’t. _Now._

They all climbed into cars, heavily armed, and sped towards the mansion that Ray hoped Ryan was being held at. It belonged to the Kingpin, but they had to real way of knowing if that’s where Ryan would be. Ray really hoped it was. He hoped they’d get there in time.

There were things he needed to say. Things that he had been too scared to say. That he now regretted not saying more than anything in the world.

Ryan had to be alright.

* * *

He could hear gunshots. Which means the crew was here. Which means the conversation he overheard was about exactly what he didn’t want it to be about. Exactly _who_ he didn’t want it to be about.

Ray was here. The whole crew was here. They were walking right into his trap. Ryan just hoped they were as underestimated as they usually were. He hoped that they could fight their way through this. That they’d all be okay. That _Ray_ would be okay.

He kind of loved that fucking kid.

* * *

It was a flurry of bullets. Ray stayed behind Michael, as promised. He shot a guard or two, but the recoil hurt like a bitch. He could feel his stitches straining, and the last thing they needed was him passed out on the floor in the middle of the fucking gang war.

Things were looking… okay. The guards seemed to be surprised, at least. They knew they were coming, that much was obvious, but they didn’t seem prepared at all. At least, not enough to contain the raw anger and adrenaline of five pissed off crew members.

They made their way through the building slowly, opening door after door, clearing rooms until they reached the door to the basement. Jack and Gavin stayed at the top of the stairs, guarding the door, while the rest of them made their way downstairs.

It was white, and bright. It took Ray’s eyes a minute to adjust but when they did… There were so many fucking devices hanging on the walls, sitting on tables… So many torture devices covering every surface. In the center of the room there was a table covered in blood. Ray’s heart sank.

He couldn’t be dead.

He wasn’t.

* * *

Everything went quiet, and then there were footsteps coming downstairs. Ryan tried to shout for them. To tell them where he was. But there was no point. The room was soundproof. It was small, and dark. A perfect plan B for when you knew there was a rescue mission underway. The door was almost impossible to find, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the wall.

He just wanted to see Ray.

* * *

“Ray…” Geoff was looking at him with so much _pity_. They’d given up already, resigned to believe that he was dead.

“No, Geoff. He’s still alive. I can feel it.”

“Ray, we’ve searched the whole house. There’s no one else here. Everyone is dead, and the Kingpin is long gone.”

“He’s here,” Ray insisted again, moving to the wall and banging against it. One of these had to be a door. They _had_ to be. It just… it didn’t fit. Why would they take the body? Why would they bother with the hassle? There was no point in trying to take Ryan, dead or alive. He had to be here, and if they were hiding him… he had to be alive.

“Ray, what are you doing?” Michael asked quietly.

“There’s a door here somewhere. I know it!”

They were all looking at him with such pity, he fucking hated it. He slammed his fists against another portion of wall and… that was a different sound. “Geoff,” He said, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly in his chest. “Geoff listen.”

They all did, and almost instantly, everyone was moving. Everyone was banging on the wall. Ray stepped back, let them break through. When they did, he pushed his way past everyone and sure enough… his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Ryan, covered in cuts and various other wounds, strapped to a table no different than the one in the room parallel.

“Ryan!”

* * *

Ray’s voice was like a miracle. Ryan was crying, he knew he was, but he didn’t care. The fucking genius kid _found him_. They all found him. Because Ray didn’t give up. The kid in question was standing over him, hands hovering over his body and unsure where to touch or what to do. Eventually, he chose to cup them around Ryan’s face, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

“Ryan, you’re okay. Everything is okay now,” he said quietly, “We can go home.”

“I love you,” Ryan said quickly. He needed Ray to know.

“I love you, too.” He smiled brightly, and for the first time since he was taken, welcomed the darkness with open arms. He was safe. Ray was safe. Everything was okay.


End file.
